Blood, Tears, WAR
by Jasmine James
Summary: A trip to the Vietnam wall can change the world. He has been dead for 14 years, but it feels like just yesterday. Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders


** This here story was inspired by my own trip to see the Vietnam Wall. I saw it very late at night and so many people were there. It was almost totally silent except for the sobbing. I say a lonely teddy bear lying in the middle of the walk.**

**-Jasmine**

1983. It has been fourteen years since he has died. Fourteen years that I have been living with his sister; lying to his mother. Out of all the people I lie to, I hate lying to her the most.

"Where are you going, Steve?" She calls in. I clench my teeth.

"Out," I tell her, "I'll be back in a few days."

She smiles. "Be safe, Darling. Where are you going?" It can't hurt to tell her this piece of information. It wouldn't hurt to tell her where I'm going. This is why it is dangerous to talk to her, I want to tell her the truth so badly.

"Washington DC," I state simply. I do not miss her eyes widening.

"Well, that's awfully far," She points out, "Bring a sweater." I nod and pray that the question I know will come, won't.

"Why are you going to DC?"

I sigh. "To see a friend."

"Who?"

"Keith."

She smiles. "Oh, Keith Darling! Oh I miss him, I wish he would come back home. I don't understand why he would leave." I understand. I know what happened.

"He just needs some time alone," I tell her.

"Alone?" She asks. "Why, he's only a child!"

"He'll be fine," I assure her, "I promise."

"Well," She tells me and brushes off her skirt. "Will you bring him a few things for me?" This is why I can't talk to her. But this is also why I have to lie to her. I nod. She leaves to his room, where I am now staying in this house. All his stuff is still there, though. It's almost like he never left. It's almost like her isn't dead.

But he is.

"Here," She tells me and hands me a ripped up brown, squishy... thing.

"What is this?" I ask. Her smile is as warm as always.

"His teddy," She answers simply.

"His... teddy," I say quietly to myself. I turn it around in my hands. Now that she points it out I can see the bear like shape. I got my fiancé a teddy just like this one for our five year anniversary. (In better condition though.) Emily and I have been engaged for three years. Right now we're waiting for Keith's little sister, Kimmy, to turn 19 before we have the wedding. She was five when her older brother died. He loved her more than words describe. It didn't matter to either of them that they only had the same Mother and not Father. They were blood and they were close. Everyone in our old "gang", (Oh, how foolish we had all been.) had loved taking care of and playing with her. We all knew someone had to do it because it was clear that her mother would not be a good parental unit. Now I'm her father figure instead of Keith. Emily says that when Kimmy was young she couldn't tell the difference between me and Keith but I know Kimmy remembers her older brother; I know she remembers how he died. I look back down at the teddy bear; one of the eyes is missing.

"He used to carry it everywhere. I think he misses it," She tells me.

I nod. "I'll give it to him. I'm saving her from the heart wrenching grief that I know would destroy her.

"He loves it so much," She continues to herself in a quiet voice, "He'll probably ask to be buried with it."

No, he won't. There was no burial. He was obliterated. There was no body to send back. No poor teenage boy to bury with a ripped up teddy bear.

…

"Goodbye, Sweetie," Emily calls to me, giving me a kiss on the cheek at the airport.

"Love you," I say back. She smiles and gets back in the car. She is about to drive back home when the door is flung open.

"Wait!" Kimmy yells and runs up to me, her rusty hair bouncing around and the wires to her Walkman swinging about.

"Steve!" She yells and I stop as she pulls me into a big hug. I feel the see the shoulder of my shirt grow darker as a puddle of tears grow.

"It's okay, Kimmy," I promise. "It'll all be fine."

Kim looks terrified, "What if it happens while you're away? What if she dies while you're gone?" She is talking about her mother, of course. Mrs. Mathews was given three years to live about... three years ago; time is catching up. At her last doctor's visit... they found problems. They said there were two options: pay $30,000 for an operation that they couldn't promise would be successful or die in three years. It was pretty clear what we had to pick. So Mrs. Mathews was never told. I talked to the doctor and I made the choice. It wasn't even a choice, really, there was no way I could get $30,000 anyways. So I didn't tell Mrs. Mathews. I had no reason to, anyways. She is getting sicker everyday, I tell her everyday that it is only a cold and it makes _me_ feel sick because she believes me.

"You'll have Emily," I tell her.

"I don't want to lose anyone else!" She cries.

"I know, Kimmy, I know."

Her grip on me tightens, "Don't let me lose you, too." She slips something in my hand.

"You won't Kimmy, I promise."

And I mean it.

…

The wall is like nothing I have ever before seen. It stretches on and on. It is like something from a dream. Not an inch of the black stone is wasted; name after name. When looking at it from a far, one might think that stone is really a lighter shade than the empty blackness. Crosses and diamonds; the missing, the dead. Every name on the wall, every 58,000 plus, never came home. Out of that 58,000 plus names... one is his.

I am not the only one here. I did not expect to be; so many people died. If I had thought that I would be the only one here... well that would be like thinking Keith would come back home.

I hear crying to my left and see a small girl. She looks about ten years old.

"Daddy!" She sobs. Her small hand is outstretched and touching a single name on the wall. I take a knee next to her and rub a few circles on her back. At my touch she throws her arms around me and cries. I look to her left and the crying woman next to her (who I assume is her mother.) gives me a bod and I hug the girl back.

I look up to the name that she was clutching. "Arron Jones." I look at the name next to it, "Keith Mathews." Were they killed in the same explosion? I look at the girl with new adoration.

"What's wrong?" I ask her She looks at me with puffy, gray eyes, she looks just like Kim.

"I don't have anything to give Daddy!" I am confused for a moment but looking up and down the wall I see it is littered with pictures and letters and toys. Some from families or lovers; some from total strangers.

I reach into my bag and pull out Keith's teddy bear.

"Here," I tell her, "give him this." Her eyes brighten and she lays it down on the wall. The girl gives the teddy a kiss.

"Goodnight, Daddy."

I hold back tears; I'm not done here yet. I pull out the letter Kim gave me and lay it down next to the teddy.

_Big Brother,_

_ It's your little sister here. Keith, I miss you. Why did you leave? Didn't you know how much Mommy needs you? How much __I__ need you? I miss you. But I'm proud of you. When all the other girls played with their older brothers and I was alone, I wasn't sad. I knew that you died so that those other girls could play with their older brothers._

_ When you left I got a whole group of new brothers. (Never as good as you. No one is as good as you, Big Brother.) My favorites? Ponyboy and Steve. I spend more time with Steve because Pony moved away after college but he read books to me. Steve told me lots of stories about you, though._

_ I miss you, Big Brother. People say you were stupid for voluntarily going to war but I know what you are: you're a hero._

_ You're __my__ hero, Big Brother._

_ With Love,_

_ Little Kimmy._

The wall is covered with flags and letters and paintings but the one things that sticks out to me: the worn out teddy bear that is loved by a dead twenty year old boy.


End file.
